


My Emancipated Heart

by NovemberWings



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Multi, Omega Jaskier | Dandelion, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pack Dynamics, Pack Family, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Abuse, Slave Trade, Slavery, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Whump, none of the tags happen between Jaskier and the witchers, the witchers are nice I promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:02:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27909427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovemberWings/pseuds/NovemberWings
Summary: When Jaskier presented as an omega many years ago his father was overcome with shame and sold him into the omega slave trade as soon as he could.Over the years Jaskier has been abused, raped and tortured so when he is sold to The White Wolf at an auction his fears of his life ending miserably seem to have come true.Especially when he discovers he belongs to the White Wolf's pack as well, Jaskier knows his life is over...For who could survive 3 Alpha Witcher masters?He just wants them to stop the nice act that they're putting on and reveal the cruel truth he knows they're hiding.
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel/Lambert (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Lambert
Comments: 146
Kudos: 836





	1. The Auction

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by: Stop One Heart From Breaking by inexplicifics  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/27212818/chapters/66472861  
> It is a much darker version of their fic! Please go read it and give it some love!
> 
> (Please mind the tags)

The carriage rocked in a way that turned Jaskier’s stomach or maybe that was his nerves. He hated auctions. The peasants came to stare and mock while the bidders were cruel and judgmental. He didn’t know what else he should expect from an auction. People came to buy people. It was never intended to be fun… well at least if you were on his side of the purchase. He was sure that the other side had a lot of fun. They seemed to anyway.

The carriage suddenly jolted strongly, harshly enough to make him jump out of his seat, causing his sore bottom to hit the rough, splintered wooden seat, pain exploded up his spine, and his chains to chafe painfully around his wrist and ankles. He let out a quiet groan which was thankfully covered up by the sound of the cart wheels rolling over the street cobbles.

His eyes flicked around the floor of the cart, seeing five other pairs of bare feet, tied together with a length of chain barely long enough to walk, belonging to five other miserable souls who would be sold today. He was too much of a coward to look up and into their faces, he knew the broken expression he would see lacing their features, and he knew his own face would mirror their pain. With not much else to do he closed his eyes and tried to disappear into the safe space in his mine, where his fingers moved effortlessly over the strings of a lute and he was surrounded by parchment covered in scribbles of lyrics and musical notation.

But it seemed he was barred from going there right now, with anxiety sending his heart into over drive and sheening his brow with dirty sweat. The only music he could hear in his ears was the same music he could always hear when he was near an auction, that god-awful tune that haunts him in his moments of his worst anxiety, and he remembered it perfectly. It was the tune playing at the feast in the great hall of the Lettenhove estate when he presented as an omega. The tune would repeat torturously in his mind, taunting him with the memory of his life before his father had shackled him and sold him for a silver coin. It would repeat and repat, getting faster until his anxiety got the better of him and all he could hear was the ringing of white noise.

The cart stopped. The music stopped. The ringing started and the doors of the cart were pulled open. Sun shone in and made Jaskier squint, it was disorientating, especially when one of the slavers grabbed the chain linking his hands together and pulled him unceremoniously out of the cart. He wasn’t prepared and he couldn’t find his footing, making him fall into the mud churned thoroughly into mush by the villagers and horses. He didn’t hear the insults he knew were shouted at him over the white noise before he received a quick kick to ribs, he scrambled to his feet and clutched at his ribs as the other omega slaves were pulled out of the back of the cart. 

They were taken behind the shoddily crafted stage, that looked like it may fall apart if the wind blew the wrong way and all six of them were lined up, shivering with mud squelching between their toes. He stood second in line and he had been at enough auctions to know what was going to happen next, the ringing in his ears became all encapsulating as the slaver took a dagger out of the sheath on his belt and walked up to the first slave in line, drawing the knife straight up the middle of the smock they were all given to wear, sending the ripped piece of fabric falling to the ground leaving the female omega in front of him as naked as the day she was born. He stared between her pale and bony shoulder blades, tense with anxiety and cold, but lowered his eyes as the slaver stood before him and repeated the same action.

Jaskier’s smock, his only protection from the elements, fell in tatters into the mud at his feet baring him to world. He tried to not focus on how he must look; his flaccid cock hanging between his too thin thighs, ribs protruding from his skin, one was obviously cracked from a few weeks ago, and his collar bone that had been broken a few years ago that had never healed properly. His skin that was covered in scars and burns, constantly painted with bruises of all colours under the coat of dirt that he never seemed able to rid his body of. He kept his head lowered but his eyes open, too scared that if he closed them he would be expected to walk and not notice, so he trained his eyes on the omega’s heels who stood in front of him and despite himself his mind wandered to the place of hope that he had tried to destroy years ago – and he wondered if his new owner would allow him clothes. He didn’t want to repeat that one over-zealous owner who never let him wear anything other than a cock cage, chastity belt or nipple clamps. If he was allowed more than that he would be grateful, but his useless thoughts of hope were dragged away from him when the omega in front of him was grabbed by her ragged blonde hair, that he was sure would be lovely if she was allowed to wash it, and dragged up the steps onto the stage.

Suddenly the ringing stopped and he felt like he could hear everything. The crowd cheering, the clink of chains from his own trembling, the slaver shouting out her price before haggling with the auctioneers. It didn’t take long these things typically didn’t. Soon she was dragged back down the stairs and led away by a slaver to be taken to her new owner.

The slaver soon returned and mercilessly grabbed the chain binding Jaskier’s hands together and pulled harshly, all but dragging him behind him and up the stairs. When they reached the stage he felt the wind whipping his body and he tried his best to repress a shiver but wasn’t totally sure he was successful. A heavy hand landed on his shoulder as he was pushed roughly to his knees. He allowed his head to drop down, knowing the position that was expected from him. He heard gasps take over the crowd as they always did, male omegas were rare. Despite his ruined state he knew he was valuable – which was why when he had tried to run they spared nothing to drag him back into their bonds. He wouldn’t ever try that again… he never wanted to repeat what had been done to him.

“Right ladies and gentlemen!” The auctioneer barked loudly getting their attention, “as you can see we have a male omega. Little scamp has had nine previous owners,” he said cheerfully, but Jaskier could hear the displeasure under his façade, “but don’t be put off! His tenth owner is getting a discount! And it means he has had plenty experience providing for his owner’s…. needs.” He left a purposeful pause before chuckling cruelly, and honestly Jaskier had never understood the stupid sadistic puns that slavers and owners came out with. One of his owners had always been full of euphemisms thinking he was original and funny, but it was so crude and unclever he had always failed to see the point. But it wasn’t his place to common on his owners poetic abilities, it was his place to be bedded in whatever manner pleased them.

“Shall we start the bidding at 20 silver!” Jaskier almost let out a chuckle, that was the same price he always started with, forget a discount, but he didn’t care how much he ultimately went for. He always sold for around 50 silver so he almost zoned out as he heard male and female betas and alphas alike shout their price.

“120 silver.” A gruff voiced announced. It wasn’t the usual desperate shouting that he was used to at auctions, it was completely controlled and the amount sent to crowed into silence. He couldn’t help but raise his own head in shock at the amount as he tried to subtly scan the crown with his eyes and find the owner of the voice.

“120 silver, sir Witcher?” The auctioneer could barely contain his surprise and excitement, Jaskier followed the staring eyes of the crowd to a man who stood imposingly to side of the crowd, who nodded his head, his white hair framing his face. Jaskier felt his heart stop and his mouth dry in a moment.

Witcher… white hair… he may be a slave but he heard stories, he knew of The Butcher of Blaviken, the White Wolf. It felt like time slowed down and sped up all at once as the auctioneer slapped his table and announced gleefully;

“Sold to the Witcher for 120 silver!”

The world came crashing back to him at normal speed violently as the slaver soon returned to his side and gripped his arm hard enough to leave bruises and pulled him to his feet but he was shaking so hard he couldn’t find his footing and he feel back to the floor. 

“Bitch.” He heard the slaver mutter as he grabbed him under both of his arms and dragged him unceremoniously across the stage to the stairs at the back where he was thrown down the few steps, landing on his shoulder painfully. “The Witcher.” He said to the other slaver who would take him to his new owner, before grabbing the next slave in line and dragging her up onto the stage.

The transport slaver made his way over to where Jaskier was staggering to his feet shakily.  
“It’s a shame really,” the slaver said to him, “I’m going to miss you, but the thought of you being speared on a Witcher’s cock for the next few months is enough to wank off to.’ He laughed, and Jaskier saw red. This man had assaulted him in so many ways and the idea of him still getting pleasure from his pain even when he wasn’t around to cause it himself made his stomach churn with anger and before he could think better of his actions he spat in the slaver’s face. He didn’t own him any more and he would be damned if he let him get away with this last humiliation without a little bit of fight. “You little shit!” The slaver ground out between clenched teeth as he wiped the spit from his face. He regarded Jaskier for a moment before backhanding him hard enough to send him back to the floor, making Jaskier cry out in pain, reaching up to cup his smarting jaw as best he could shackled.. “A parting gift from you to me.”

“Hey!” He heard an angry shout from a few paces away, and he saw a pair of boots heading towards him quickly. “Away!” The voice demanded. 

“Yes, sir Witcher.” The slaver responded taking a few steps away from Jaskier, his tone respectful enough but he could hear the smirk in his voice. “I do apologise for touching your property but he was in need of some last minute correction and punishment.”

The boots had landed in front of where Jaskier was huddled on the ground and didn’t dare move to stand, he didn’t know what his new master wanted from him and he wasn’t going to presume anything. He knew Witchers were stronger than average folk and he wasn’t in a hurry to incur his wrath anytime soon. But the Witcher’s next words sent a chill down his spine;

“I will decided what needs to be corrected and I will punish him how I see fit, now I suggest you move away.” The words weren’t shouted but they were said with enough threat that Jaskier flinched into the ground and the slaver moved away, leaving him alone with his new owner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya!! I hope you enjoyed! I know there wasn't much Geralt but there will be in the next chapter. Please forgive me for a few things I am not an expert on Witcher law so I'm sure that I'm going to make some mistakes and also I'm very bad at uploading schedules so this is likely to be very sporadic!  
> Please leave a comment if you're interested in this fic and would like to see it continued!


	2. The Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier finally meets Geralt and they ride out of town

A moment of silence passed as the Witcher watched the slaver stalk away before he turned his attention towards Jaskier. He knelt on the grass in front of Jaskier.

“Did he twist your neck?” Surprisingly, his tone was a lot gentler.

“No master.” He responded loudly enough to be heard. There was a sharp intake of breath from his master, making him tense in preparation for unpleasantness but there was only a beat of silence and then Witcher’s gentle tone.

“Can you sit up so I can unchain your feet and hands?” Jaskier thought for a moment he must have misheard, he had never had the chains removed so early on… they normally waited until they were at the master’s home, but he quickly moved to comply, moving from the lying position he fell into to sitting on his bottom but his legs and arms in front of him presented so the Witcher could easily access the padlock of the chains.

He didn’t flinch when his master took his foot into his calloused hand and noticed again the Witcher was remarkably gentle, not needlessly squeezing the bones in his feet or cruelly tugging the chains reopening old wounds around his ankles. With his master’s quiet gentleness the chains were gone quickly, Jaskier worried for a moment that he had zoned out – he had a nasty habit of doing that – but evidently it didn’t seem to matter if he did, as his master apparently hadn’t asked anything of him other than to sit still while the chains were removed… this was a good start at least.

“I don’t suppose you have anything to wear while we ride do you?” His master asked him, making Jaskier cringe. And this is where the badness would start. Was this to punish him when he said no? Or was it to taunt him with his own pitiful situation?

“No, sorry master.” His voice trembled as he spoken and as his master let out an annoyed sigh the tremble possessed his body.

“You’ll have to put this around your shoulders for now.” He said reaching behind him before grabbing whatever he wanted before turning back to Jaskier and he handed him a light. It wasn’t thrown at him like he expected just passed to him with patient hands as his own hands shook. He hoped he looked eager when he pulled the blanket around his shoulders like a cape – hope his small smile expressed his gratitude, but just to be safe;

“Thank you for your kindness, master, I greatly appreciate it!” He tried to put every ounce of his genuine gratitude into his voice.

“You’re welcome.” His master grunted, and Jaskier let his eyes flick up to see his master’s mouth, he didn’t dare look any higher. His master’s mouth was turned down in a frown and Jaskier felt himself sieze up with panic. What had he done wrong? Did his master not want him to speak? If that was the case his future looked very painful… he could never stop himself.

“You don’t… have to talk like that.” His master said after a long pause. Jaskier didn’t know what the hell he meant by that, talk like what? So he went with the answer he knew would be safe;

“Yes, master.” He didn’t need to be asking any unnecessary questions. His master’s mouth pulled down more than ever but before he had time for his panic to increase into a full on panic attack his master stood up.

“Can you stand?” He asked Jaskier, who was still huddled on the floor, now a lot happier that he had been provided with a modicum of modesty with the blanket around his shoulders. Despite this, however, Jaskier could tell how badly his legs were shaking.

“I think so master.” But his voice must have revealed his uncertainty.

“Hmm.” The white wolf’s tone was disbelieving as he leant down and picked Jaskier up, one arm under his knees and one under his shoulders. Jaksier squeezed his eyes shut tightly, let out an involuntary whimper and held his breath expecting some form of pain, this was the first time his master had properly touched him. But when nothing happened he slowly opened his eyes and saw that the Witcher was staring intently at his face, a frown marring his brow. And before Jaskier could reorientate himself he realised he was staring directly into his master’s eyes… they were yellow. Jaskier was so shocked for a moment he forgot himself and continued to stare before common sense slapped him upside the head and he slammed his eyes back down, looking at his master’s chest instead, his breath catching inside of his own.

“I… I am sorry, master, please forgive me.” He let out a gasp of panic as tears began to well up in his eyes, how was he screwing this up so royally. If he ever had a chance of surviving the witcher’s wrath he sure has hell didn’t now.

“It’s fine.” His master grumbled before he started walking. Jaskier snuck a look at where they were walking to and it became evident that they were walking towards a horse and Jaskier felt his heart leap into his mouth. This was going to hurt, his bottom was sore from the slavers’ farewell ‘games’ last night and now he would have to ride a horse. And because his brain hates him he suddenly remembered when one slave girl had to sit on a slaver’s cock while they were in the horse cart, and he could almost hear her whimpers as the cart jolted and bumped over cobblestones. Surely it would be worse on the back of a horse. As they reached the horse a resigned sob left his mouth as he accepted his fate for the next hour or however long they would be travelling. 

“Are you hurt? What’s wrong?” His master asked, obviously having heard his cry, but the most bizarre thing was that his master’s voice sounded worried.

“No, master.” He whispered, mortified at himself for being so careless to make a noise, “I apologise, I’m fine, master.” At that the white wolf let out a small chuckle before replying;

“Well we both know that’s not true.” Making a shiver of panic travel up his spine, but before he had the chance to please forgiveness and apologise his master continued, “are you afraid of riding?” He asked gently, and from his tone Jaskier couldn’t work out the answer he wanted to hear, but having already been caught out in a lie he didn’t want to lie again.

“A little, master.”

“Can I ask why?” His master requested and it struck him as strange that he was asking… he was his master he could do anything he wanted. Perhaps he was trying to gauge what scared him so he could use it in a punishment, but he was tired of the games and his master already pointed out he didn’t want him to lie, even if a lie was the right answer.

“Well…” he suddenly realised he had no idea how to explain this so he went with the easier option and hoped it would suffice, “last night before the auction the slavers wanted to enjoy the slaves before we were sold… so they played this slaver card game where the number on the card played would be the number of spankings the slaves would receive and when the game was finished I was picked as the prize for the winner… so I’m a little sore, master.” He trailed off waiting for some form of retribution but when he was met with nothing but silence he hurried to apologise, “I am sorry, master, I do not mean to complain! Please do not let my pain affect your actions master, my body belongs to you.” He bit his lip to make himself stop talking, knowing his panic was making him ramble. There was a sigh that filled the silence.

“You don’t have to apologise for that, omega, you didn’t do anything wrong.” His master said, “but I suppose you’ll have to ride on my lap instead, it may be more comfortable.”

The words sent his vision white with panic, his worst nightmare coming true, this was going to be truly excruciating. He was glad for the fact he was biting his lip because he knew if he hadn’t been he would have let out a whimper but instead he silently nodded.

“You’ll have to stand while I mount Roach and I’ll pull you up into my lap. Do you think you can manage that?” The question sounded genuine, like if he said no his master would find another way, but he couldn’t deny him, so he shakily whispered.

“Yes, master.” He saw the mouth of his master turn down in a frown before he nodded and slowly placed Jaskier on his feet, holding him under his arms until he was sure that his slave wasn’t going to collapse. When Jaskier’s legs had locked securely enough he let go and swung himself effortlessly onto the horse, and before Jaskier had the chance to wonder how he had managed to do it so gracefully with such a tall horse he was grabbed under the arms again and pulled up into the witcher’s lap on the back of the horse so he was sitting with his legs dangling off one side of the horse instead of straddling it. He managed to stifle his noise of pain at the pull on his shoulder blade and the pain in his arse, which he was quite proud of, but still the witcher let out a quiet ‘hmm’ and he couldn’t tell if it was happiness at having a half-naked slave sat on his lap or displeasure at something.

Quickly the horse was walking, and thankfully his master didn’t have the horse at a trot or gallop, which he knew would have been twice as painful but he still couldn’t bring himself to relax, his muscles tense.

They rode in silence, and Jaskier couldn’t help noticing that for once he wasn’t the one the townsfolk were staring at, all eyes were trained on his master. As they moved into the outskirts of the town without warning, his master’s hand was resting between his shoulder blade and his gruff voice was talking quietly;

“Try to relax, omega, your muscles will cramp if they’re tense on a horse ride.” Suddenly Jaskier became overly aware of how taught he was holding himself, every muscle was unbelievably tense, but it was the state he was used to nowadays. But if it was bothering his master he would try and relax…

“Yes master.” He said as he let out a steadying breath and wilfully relaxed his muscles, and focused all his remaining energy on keeping them relaxed and staying awake. He usually needed to crash after an auction, but he rarely got the opportunity, people wanting to try out their new toy and he was sure that this time wasn’t going to be any different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God! The response to this fic has been amazing! Thank you so much! I hope this lives up to what you were hoping and please let me know your thoughts! xx


	3. The Others

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier meets the other two witchers who are to be his masters.

They rode in silence for an undeterminable amount of time but they exited the town and then continued to travel for a while in the wilderness. He could feel his anxiety rising as they moved away from civilisation. Sometimes men could spur on other men’s cruelty when they were taunting slaves but in the wilderness people could be out right bestial, with no prying eyes or judging neighbours to pass comment they could enact exactly their heart’s desires. Despite his anxiety starting to fuel the blood moving around his body he stayed as relaxed as he physically could.

He quickly tried to sneak a look at his master’s face and saw his face marred with disgust or unhappiness, with his nose wrinkled as if there was a bad smell, making him suddenly extremely self-conscious of how awful he must look and smell. He felt a twinge in his heart as he remembered all the lovely oils that he used to bathe in and now he was lucky if he just smelt like sweat. He averted his eyes and didn’t say anything to try and make the situation better, he knew he wouldn’t fix anything and he only ran the risk of making him more angry if he spoke, so he bit his lip as tears started to burn the backs of his eyes. He was so tired.

“Are you in pain?”

His master suddenly asked, making him flinch at the sudden noise, he paused considering his answer.

“No master…” He was a little confused by the question. He was always in pain, but no more so than usual. Yes riding was slightly uncomfortable but it was made greatly better by being seated in his masters lap and he hadn’t yet been slapped or had his nipples twisted or dick pulled on painfully so he didn’t see what the problem was, but his master had asked so he answered. His master let out another hum and let the matter drop. They continued down the path they had been on for a while before the sent of alpha starting developing in the air and before long it was all encompassing, completely surrounding all of his senses and despite his master he could feel himself start to tense, on the verge of trembling.

He glanced up through his eyes lashes trying to see where the smell was coming from and he could see they were nearing a camp with a tent, a couple of horses and a fire. There were two alpha’s milling about and he felt his heart skip a beat. Both of them suddenly looked up from their activity and looked towards the horse, and despite himself he felt himself cringing into his master’s chest. His master didn’t say anything but gently placed his hand between his shoulder blades again, making him relax minutely, but he didn’t have the mind right now to understand why.

He had expected to ride past the camp but as the horse slowed down and the other alphas started making their way towards them his vision started to fade to black around the edges, he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t know if his master intended to rent him to these alphas or if all three of them were together and Jaskier would now be for all three…

One alpha with an incredibly scarred face walked up to the side of the horse.

“Geralt didn’t you take any clothes to the market?” He said almost chidingly.

“I forgot.” His master replied, sounding oddly ashamed. The other alpha shook his head before he turned his attention towards Jaskier, whose mouth started to go dry.

“Let’s get you down and dressed, shall we?” The question was obviously rhetorical, which was good as Jaskier knew there was no way he would be able to be coherent right now.

“Careful.” His master said, Geralt as the man had called him, “he’s shaky.” The scarred man gave a taught nod as Geralt picked him up, one hand under his knees and one under his shoulders, and handed him to the man who held him the exact same way before walking over to where the fire was and placing Jaskier on a log that had been rolled onto its side to make a makeshift bench. He knew he was trembling terribly but he couldn’t stop.

“What’s your name?” The scarred one asked, going to one knee in front of him not touching him at all. Jaskier couldn’t help but to pull the blanket tightly around his shoulder, no matter how little good it would do him in the end, as he stared pointedly into his lap.

“Omega… or whatever pleases my master.” The answer rolled easily off his tongue, people didn’t consider omega’s worthy of an individual name. Whoever they were before they presented was discarded and forgotten. 

“Gods…” The other alpha muttered under his breath, making the kneeling alpha whip his head round to give him an expression he couldn’t see, before he turned back towards Jaskier and reached forward, gently grasping his chin in a light grip – making his breath hitch – and tipping his face up, forcing Jaskier to look at him.

“What would please us is your name.” He said gently not letting go of Jaskier’s chin, looking him deeply in the eye – and Jaskier couldn’t see the usual dance of cruelty in his yellow eyes – he was a witcher as well. He took a moment to try and suss if there was a trick or a correct answer before he all but whispered;

“Jaskier, alpha.” At that the alpha smiled and he did feel a slight pressure release his chest. He had managed something right.

“I’m Eskel, it’s nice to meet you Jaskier.” The smile stayed put on his face and Jaskier almost gasped, no one had spoken his name in such a way since he had been sold, it wasn’t said cruelly or mockingly, just conversationally or even kindly. Suddenly, the hand left his chin but he didn’t dip his head again as he should have done, still very much in shock.

“That small one over there is Lambert.” He gestured at the alpha behind him and Jaskier couldn’t help his eyes trailing to look at Lambert who had a scandalized expression on his face;

“I’m not small!” He didn’t shout but he certainly raised his voice, and Jaskier inadvertently cringed away knowing that when alphas were angry it wasn’t usually the best situation for him. “Sorry.” Lambert said in a much smaller voice after a second, before Eskel was turning his attention back to Jaskier, making him flinch slightly.

“And that man you rode with is Geralt. Sorry about him forgetting the clothes for you, my pack can be idiots sometimes, but you’ll get to know that.” Eskel, apparently, said a small smile pulling at his lips at his obvious fake annoyance. But from his words it didn’t sound like the alphas were planning on killing him tonight… so maybe he had that to be thankful for at least. After he didn’t say anything for a few moments Eskel stood up, making him cringe, close his eyes quickly and lower his head, knowing this is when the pain normally starts.

“Right… we need to get some clothes on you and some food into you and then we can have a chat about what’s happening here.” Eskel said and there was so much information there he didn’t know what to do with himself or his thoughts, so he went with his usual;

“Yes, alpha.”

“We’ll talk to him about that later right?” he heard Lambert say quietly, obviously talking to Eskel who had moved to retrieve something. He felt a ripple of fear travel up his spine at those word. He didn’t know what they meant but he was sure that it didn’t mean anything good for him.

“Shut up, Lambert.” Eskel hissed in return, and nothing more was said. Soon a pair of boots fell into his vision in front of him.

“Jaskier.” The voice was gentle but insistent, and for a moment he didn’t react waiting for something but when nothing further happened he dared to glance up and look at Eskel’s mouth, not quite feeling brave enough to meet his eyes. “Here are some clothes for you, do you want any help getting dressed?” He didn’t know what the right answer was but he knew he didn’t want to be touched for as long as he was allowed, so he shook his head.

“I… I can do it, thank you alpha.” Eskel gave a curt nod and handed him a pile of fabrics, consisting of breeches, a shirt, some boots and a coat. It took him a moment to take it all in before he was rushing to get them on before they could change their mind. As quickly as he could move he stood up, letting the blanket fall from his shoulders as he stepped into the breeches before his fingers began to fumble with the button, but he was shaking far to much to clasp the trousers. The realisation made him whine in the back of his throat.

“May I help?” Eskel’s voice was close and soft, making Jaskier look up in surprise, staring openly at his face, trying to see any signs of cruelty about to come his way, but he wanted these clothes on so badly he nodded his head. He must look manic but he couldn’t find it in himself to care all too much. Eskel took one big step forward and was close enough to reach for him.

Eskel reached for forward and took the clasp in his hands, and immediately Jaskier noticed how large they were… if they gave him the kindness of stretching him open even that would hurt. His breath was coming out too fast and tremulously. When Eskel had finished buttoning the breeches, without touching Jaskier at all, he gestured to the shirt that he had placed on the log next to where he was sitting.

“You want help with the shirt as well?” He asked softly, and he really didn’t want help with the shirt but he knew that if he couldn’t do one clasp on his breeches he wouldn’t be able to do multiple on the shirt so he nodded shakily.

“Please, alpha.”

“Alright, lad.” Eskel said, and Jaskier felt a strange sense of calm wash over him, he knew that alpha’s could manipulate their aura to influence how omega’s felt but he had never experienced it positively. Eskel leant down and picked up the shirt and pulled it around his shoulder’s, with Jaskier slipping his arms in independently, shivering from the cold and being surrounded by two obviously huge alpha arms, but Eskel made quick work of it and didn’t linger before moving to the fastens on the shirt and doing them up, again without touching him once. When that was done he handed the coat to him and Jaskier slipped it on by himself, feeling relief from the cold like he hadn’t felt in ages. Eskel then gestured to the boots on the ground;

“Have a seat.” And he complied sitting back down on the log, he would have knelt but this is where he had been placed and he wouldn’t contradict his masters. For the second time in a short period of time Eskel knelt before him and helped him slip the boots over his cold and bruised feet.

“Here.” A voice from behind him said suddenly, making him jump in alarm and let out a yelp before he bit his lip. Stupid Jaskier. “Sorry, sorry!” The same voice, the owner now coming into his vision. It was Lambert again but he was holding a bowl of steaming stew, and he suddenly realised he would do almost anything to have that bowl to himself. He gazed longingly at it, wondering what the price would be. 

“He’s human, you dunce.” Eskel reprimanded, as he reached towards the bowl and took it in his own hands, before turning his attention back to Jaskier. “Try not to eat to quickly, you might make yourself sick and no ones going to take it away from you.” He spoke slowly and clearly as if he was talking to an idiot but Jaskier didn’t care because the next thing he knew the bowl was placed in his lap. He looked down at the bowl and then up at Eskel again. Before Lambert chimed in;

“You can eat that. It’s for you.” And Jaskier didn’t need to be told twice, he bought the bowl up to his mouth and slurped hungrily, thick warm gravy passing his lips, interrupted every now and then by some vegetables and even a few pieces of meat, which he barely chewed. The bowl was gone in moments and despite his luck he couldn’t help feeling a little sad when his meal was over.

He knew the game. He knew the script. Now came payment. Nothing was given to him for free and he had a large debt to pay to these witchers. He wanted to look willing, then maybe, if he was lucky, they wouldn’t think they would have to force him violently or beat him into compliance. Maybe if he looked willing then there would be more treats down the line… he could only hope and try his best.

So he placed the bowl on the log next to him, before he slipped off the log onto his knees, legs folding beneath him. He moved to clasp his hands behind his back and squeezed them together tightly to try and stop their trembling, cringing slightly at how the motion pulled at his collar bone. He lowered his eyes and licked his lips –  
“Thank you for your kindness and generosity, masters. Please let me repay you however you please, I want to be good for you, alphas.” He was quite proud of how his voice didn’t tremble as much as he had expected it to. He was met with a resounded silence, which was not what he had expected.

“Jaskier… we need to talk to you about that.” Eskel spoke, his voice impossibly soft, but the words still made him shudder in tense anticipation for what exactly they meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh! Eveery time I get a notification for this fic it makes me smile so much! Thank you for all the kudos and comments and I really hope you're enjoying this fic! I promise things will get better for our baby, plus we'll be finding out why they bought our boy soon!  
> Please continue letting me hear your thoughts! xxx


	4. The Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eskel, Lambert and Geralt have a conversation with Jaskier about his new situation.

A heavy silence fell over the camp as the other two witchers also made their way in front of Jaskier. Eskel lowered himself to one knee once again, in front of Jaskier close but never touching. He gestured to the log behind Jaskeir with his hand;

“Mind having a seat on the log, lad?” Eskel stayed kneeling, as Jaskier hesitated before following his order. Lambert stood to his side and Geralt stood a few paces behind both of them. Jaskier felt his eyes flick anxiously between them, starting to feel incredibly cornered with having all three of them stare at him, he started to feel himself start to hyperventilate, feeling like he was about to be sick.

“Relax, lad.” Eskel said, putting a placating hand out towards him. “I know you’re scared but try and listen.” He nodded jerkily. “Okay good. So once again I’m Eskel, this is Lambert and that quiet one is Geralt.” He gestured to each one of them. “So for starters, I think you’ve probably figured out that we’re all alphas and we understand that probably makes you nervous… and we’re all witchers,” he let out another chuckle, “which probably makes you even more nervous. But we want you to know… we need you to know that we’re not going to hurt you.”

At that Jaskier scoffed. He actually scoffed. He didn’t know what made him do it… maybe it was the nerves… or how tired he was or the fact he was near hysterical with stress but he regretted it as soon as he did it. He felt his face go slack with shock.

“I…I...” He stuttered out, his lip trembling, without absolutely no excuse coming to mind. The others were shocked too, from the silence, until Geralt let out an amused snort.

“I suppose that’s good…” Lambert spoke slowly, slightly unsure, “he still has a personality.” Jaskier’s eyes flicked madly between the three witchers before Eskel spoke again, pulling Jaskier’s focus back to him.

“He’s right, Jaskier, that is good. We want you to scoff and laugh and talk to us and ask questions.” He blinked unbelievingly. “We want you to feel safe around us and we really don’t want you to call us master or alpha or sir.” There was silence for a beat.

“I…” He started, before biting his lip to force himself to stop. Why couldn’t he ever just keep his mouth shut and nod along.

“Please go on, what do you want to say?” Eskel prompted hurriedly, gesturing to him gently, like if Jaskier went into himself now he might never come out again. He hesitated for a moment extra before clenching his fists in act to summon his bravery.

“I don’t understand.” He all but whispered, it felt odd to not tack on a formality, but they had just told him not to…

“That’s okay, thank you for telling us.” Eskel smiled, as though he was actually please and Jaskeir couldn’t help feeling his anxiety easing a little in his chest, he seemed to have done something right. “I imagine this arrangement is very different to what you’ve previously experienced.” He glanced at the others before continuing, seemingly struggling for words, “we’re wolf witchers, so we act like a pack, we care for each other and look after each other and that includes you now. Geralt has a great nose for mixing scents and your scent mixes well with ours and that’s why we bought you. You fit with us.” 

Unconsciously, Jaskier took in a deep breath registering their scents, he had been too overwhelmed with general alpha before but now he was concentrating on it was evident that their scents complimented each other’s fantastically. He nodded minutely to indicate that he was listening and following as best he could.

“We also bought you because we need an omega around us to balance us out.” This is where the other shoe would drop. He was going to find out if he was a sex doll or a punching bag. “We tend to get a bit prickly after a while and we decided that we needed an omega around to love us and for us to love.” He said simply, seemingly not realising how those words had sealed Jaskier’s fate; sex doll it would be then, and Jaskier suddenly remembered the rumours about witcher’s cocks. It was said they had barbed cocks and if he was expected to take three… he couldn’t do it. It would kill him. 

In the silence all three witcher’s faces scrunched up tightly, and Lambert even took a step back, making him frown and panic slightly at what had happened.

“What’s wrong, Jaskier?” Eskel, asked softly, obviously trying to hide the cringe plastered on his face and he couldn’t help but be confused at what was going on.

“Nothing.” He squeaked out.

“Lad…” Eskel trailed off before casting a pleading look towards his brothers. Evidently Geralt was the one who decided to step in, bluntly as always.

“We can smell emotions, omega. We can smell when you’re happy, sad or scared and right now you keep spiking with smell of fear… it isn’t the most pleasant scent in the world. So we know there’s something wrong.” He explained succinctly but the revelation terrified Jaskier who suddenly realised he wouldn’t be able to hide anything from his masters. How much would he be punished for his scent that was out of his control? Especially I they don’t like the smell of fear. And suddenly, Geralt’s expressions on the horse ride made more sense.

“I’m… sorry. I’ll try and be… better… less scared.” He didn’t know how to deal with this, he’d never heard of someone being able to smell emotion. 

“Ah no, lad, you misunderstand.” Eskel joined back in the conversation, “we’re not angry at you, we know you can’t help it. It’ll go with time, don’t worry about it. All we mean by telling you is that it would be easier if you were honest with us. You don’t need to be afraid of telling us the truth, we have no intention of punishing you.”

“For anything.” Lambert added strongly.

Despite the sincerity that was pouring off them in waves he couldn’t believe this. He had had one master before who enjoying this little charade. Getting him comfortable, thinking he was saved, just to rip it away be just as cruel as the others. 

“Do you think you could tell us what’s wrong?” Eskel prompted again and there was no way he was going to tell them that he was scared to death of their barbed cocks, so he settled on another question. They didn’t get mad at the last question at least, so he swallowed hard;

“What do you want from… uh that is… what do you expect me to do?” He managed to choke out. Staring intently at the grass around his boots. There wasn’t a pause, but the answer wasn’t rushed, and it was obviously thought out – they knew what they wanted.

“Let us hold you, sleep by us.” Geralt started, Lambert followed

“Help around the camp if you can and if you want to.”

“But mainly, we just want you to be here with us and be yourself.” Eskel finished, his voice as always, soft bordering even on kind. Jaskier knew that his mind was working in overdrive, he was surprised he didn’t have steam coming out of his ears at how hard his brain was working, trying to find a catch, sense the joke he was obviously missing… anything. But he couldn’t detect it for the life of him. 

“Jaskier.” Eskel’s voice was gentle, but the unspoken order was clear so he looked up, not quite looking into his yellow gaze but more at his adam’s apple, “we know this is very different and new to you. It’s going to take time to adjust, for all of us, but that’s okay. We won’t ever hurt you, we’re patient… we’ll wait for you.” And he didn’t know what to say to that so he just nodded;

“Yes, Eskel.” His voice mechanic, and if he had looked up any higher he would have seen the faces of all three witcher’s fall at his trained response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the cliff hanger in the last chapter was mean so I hope this lived up to expectation. We love our boys trying to communicate... with varying success! Please let me hear your thoughts and opinions and all your things, honestly your comments are writing fuel!


	5. The Waterskin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier is given some time to think.

After their conversation Geralt had handed Jaskier a water skin and told him to drink before all three witchers backed off and started doing things around the camp, obviously having a routine that they were all used to. Jaskier knew he should have been paying more attention but he could feel himself retreating into his own head… the way he did whenever he had time to himself. 

He absentmindedly sipped at the water skin as he tried to order his thoughts. As he was left alone the scent of the witchers’ started to become more apparent – and their scents definitely merged together pleasantly, and it started to lull him into a weird sense of security – so maybe they had bought him for his scent. They had no reason to lie about that… except to put him at ease. They hadn’t hurt him yet… but there was still plenty of opportunity. And while he was happy he wasn’t currently hog tied being cut open, or spanked and fucked over the log he was currently sitting on, he could feel himself starting to get antsy with the lack of certainty. He liked to know how punishments worked – the surprise and the waiting was always the worst part. He hadn’t seen any whips or torturous instruments but that didn’t mean they weren’t in one of the many bags scattered around the campsite. And even if they didn’t have anything like that he was certain that they could easily make a switch out of the many branches around them.

He heard a bark of cruel laughter in the back of his own mind at that… as if these witchers needed tools to inflict pain on him. They were huge and strong and killed monsters on a daily basis. They didn’t need anything to terrify him except their hands and their imaginations. He took another small sip of water.

Geralt had said that he wanted him to sleep by them… that didn’t sound like the usual lazy double entendre that his masters came up with to amuse themselves. And Eskel had said that they just wanted him to be here and be himself. That made absolutely no sense. He didn’t even know who he was anymore and even if he did there was no way he’d be sharing that with his masters. The only order that had made any sense was Eskel saying to help around camp… and that’s why he probably should have been paying more attention to the flow of the camp – to see where he could hop in and help but he couldn’t. His brain felt like it had been stuffed with sheep’s wool and his brain was all muddled. He could feel his eyes starting to drift shut – auctions and meeting new owners was always exhausting but he didn’t want to sleep. Firstly, he hadn’t been given permission, and secondly, he didn’t know what state he would wake up in or how he would be woken up. So to try and chase away the tiredness he just concentrated on the cool water in his mouth every time he brought the waterskin to his lips. The water made his chapped lips sting, but the pain sort of grounded him and stopped him floating completely away.

Soon he brought the waterskin to his lips again and tipped it up but realised there was nothing in it. He should have panicked but he couldn’t really find it in himself. So he held the water skin and concentrated on the cold stinging his hands and how his body was almost pulsating with heat that he had forgotten he could feel. The coat feeling heavy on his shoulders and his collar bone starting to ache. It always did when he was left on his own and he wasn’t concentrating on the world around him for threats.

Soon the music started and he started absentmindedly drawing notes on his leg subtly with his index finger. He could hear the lute strumming and could almost feel where the callouses would form. It was a nice tune… he wished he could write it down… but he quickly put that thought outside of his head – it was pointless anyway. So he repeated the tune over and over again, trying to hear what words would fit where. 

He didn’t have a subject for the song so he focused on the elements. The juxtaposition of hot and cold in his own body might be a nice subject… link that to love and death. The cold of a dead body and the rush of blushing heat when you would fall in love. He could hear the lute growing in the background and his finger moving faster as he wrote lyrics on his leg.

Suddenly the music stopped as he felt a sharp cramp in his stomach and with horror he realised he desperately needed the bathroom. It was almost painful how full his stomach felt with water… how could he be so foolish to drink so much. What if they expected him to wet himself as punishment… but they had given him such wonderful clothes surely they wouldn’t want that. 

He should probably say something. He didn’t want to wet himself and he was sure if he did he would most likely be punished harshly. He would probably be punished for finishing the water skin… He was scared of the pain but if he experienced their punishments maybe it would take a weight off his mind. He was sure he was being foolish, looking to punishment, but he understood punishment and he knew his mind could be his worst enemy and his best friend and if he was left in this limbo of uncertainty his worst enemy would definitely make an appearance. 

Another sharp pain in his bladder spiked and he risked a glance up and he saw Geralt standing a few paces away from him staring at him with raised eyebrows and folded arms. He quickly looked back down, feeling his breath cut off in his throat, he started to pinch at his leg through he trousers at his foolishness. He heard soft grass crunching under Geralt’s boots at he approached. He crouched down in front of him, in a way not too dissimilar to Eskel.

“What’s wrong, Jaskier?” his voice, soft and low, not drawing the attention of his pack mates – which he was extremely grateful for. He couldn’t stand the three of them surrounding him again right now. He did feel himself start to minutely tremble. He hesitated a little too long before responding, not knowing if he should tell the truth and get it over with or lie and have to repeat this whole situation or soil himself. In his silence Geralt reached forward and took his chin in one of his large calloused hands and gently guided his face up, just like Eskel, before letting go but Jaskier didn’t lower his gaze again – the witchers clearly didn’t buy into the rule about slaves making eye contact. Geralt silently raised his eyebrows in question, but waited patiently for Jaskier to find his voice.

“I think… if I had your permission, sir,… I would like to… I need to relieve myself, sir.” His voice got more and more quiet as he spoke, to the point that he was talking through a shaking breath at the end. He knew Geralt would hear him if the rumours about witcher senses were true. Geralt just nodded before he grunted;

“Call me Geralt… not sir.” Jaskier nodded shakily making Geralt ‘hmm’ before he stood and raised his voice, addressing the other alphas. “I’m going to take Jaskier to relive himself and fill up the waterskins.” He spoke, getting a nod and grunt in response from the others before he turned his attention back to Jaskier, who was still sat on the long. “Do you think you can walk or do you want me to carry you?” The question seemed neutral… like there wasn’t a right or wrong but Jaskier knew there was always a right and a wrong but here he didn’t know which was which. So he took a steadying breath.

“Whichever you prefer, Geralt.” His answer made the witcher’s mouth pull unpleasantly at the corners, Jaskier had gotten it wrong.

“Try and walk, if you find you can’t manage I’ll carry you.” Geralt said, coming to his own conclusion, making Jaskier nod. He would prefer to walk if he could. So he stood on shaky legs. Geralt reached forward and took the water skin out of his hand. “Follow me” he spoke before heading off towards the trees, only leaving Jaskier the option to follow mutely, wondering what was going to happen when they were out of sight of the others hidden by the trees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I know it's been a while since I uploaded but I wanted to give you something on Christmas Eve. Say it's a present from me to you wonderful readers! I know not much happened in this chapter but a lot has happened to lil ol Jaskeir and he needs time to process! Love you all and happy holidays! xx (Please give me your thoughts!)


	6. The Cliff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier and Geralt go into the forest and it turns out to be one of the more eventful bathroom breaks of Jskier's life.

They had walked through the trees for a few minutes, with Geralt leading with confident strides a little in front of Jaskier, who followed trying his best not to stumble. He was tired. He wanted to sleep. He needed to piss so badly. He hoped that if Geralt was going to take this opportunity to fuck him he would less him piss first otherwise… well Jaskier was sure he would end up covered in blood by the end of it. Soon the sound of a river neared, then the sight of a rather unimpressive stream appeared. Geralt walked up the muddy bank and crouched and started filling the waterskins. The sound of the water was starting to drive him a little crazy, so he clenched his thighs together as tightly as possible and focused everything he had onto not wetting himself. Geralt held the waterskin in the river until it was full, before he moved onto the next one and Jaskier knew he couldn’t take it much longer.

“G-Geralt…” He felt his tummy turn at the way he addressed the witcher, but all Geralt did was cast a look over his shoulder,

“hmm?” it was clearly supposed to indicate him to continue speaking but he had already spoken without permission once… Geralt looked at him intently before realisation clouded his features, “oh… go piss in the woods, don’t go too far.” Jaskier nodded as Geralt turned back to the stream to continue filling bottles, he wasn’t fool enough to think he could run from the witchers, but as he moved between the trees to kid himself into the idea of having privacy… it did become more and more tempting. 

As he pulled himself out of his trousers he realised his situation. He was wearing clothes. He was fed. He was tired… but he has a tiny head start and Geralt did seem to have a habit of forgetting things… maybe his absence would be unnoticed for a few moments. Just enough to get ahead. When he had finished he tucked himself away before he glanced at Geralt’s slightly hidden figure still in the same spot. He knew it was foolish… but maybe he wouldn’t get this chance again. When they dropped the nice act they might keep him chained all the time and the torture would definitely come sooner or later it always did and when it did he would kick himself for not trying to get away. His head snapped away from Geralt and back to the forest… it was so dense and dark… dense and dark enough to go missing long enough they would move on. 

If he was caught he would definitely be killed. He wasn’t a fool he knew it wouldn’t be painless but if they were going to catch him he could find a cliff to throw himself off. If he stayed he would be tortured. If he was caught trying to escape he would be tortured. But if he got away…

He shot one final look towards Geralt who seemed to be in a world of his own filling up the water skins and before he could think any further he was bolting through the trees. His feet were moving so fast he felt like he might trip over them any second, he knew he leaves and sticks must be crunching under foot but he could barely register that as the wind whipped at his ears and his heart thundered loudly. He could taste blood in his mouth but he didn’t care. He hadn’t run for so long. Not since the last time he tried to escape and even then his feet had been chained…

He hadn’t felt this free in a long time. He dodged trees left and right, and then he heard Geralt shout for his brothers. He knew that shout would come, honestly he thought it would come sooner than it did, but even so it scared him and made his heart beat even faster. He took a left through the trees heading towards what he hoped would be a pond or lake, some body of water connected to the river. He needed to jump in to cover his scent. It was his best shot. Without it they would smell him… and now he could smell them. He could smell their pursuit. He knew they were following him and he knew they could smell him. And then he saw it. There was a murky pond, with leaves floating on the top and mud swirly in its depths. He made a bee line for it. This had to work. IT HAD TO. 

He skidded to a halt by the edge of the pond and carefully made his way it. It was freezing. He didn’t want the sound of a big splash to alert the witchers to his plan so he slowly descended until the water was chest height. He dunked his head quickly before standing up and gasping for air, shocked by the cold, but it had to be done to hide his scent. He was shivering as he cast his eyes around the ever darkening woods, before pausing and trying to listen over the thundering in his ears. Soon he heard footsteps running through the trees so he closed his eyes took a breath and plunged himself into the murky water, crouching on the bottom as still as he could hold himself. He squinted his eyes open and saw a boulder and moved to grab it, he would need to hold something to stay on the bottom without thrashing too much. He knew one of them was close. They were too close. They needed to run by without pausing because the water was so cold it was sucking the breath out of his lungs.

He reached for the boulder before his head snapped round to the left as a pair of booted feet landed heavily in the water. They stalked towards him and despite everything he tried to hope but it was all sucked away from him when a gloved hand grabbed his collar and pulled him to the surface.

He gasped as he reached the air, and coughed water out of his lungs, frantically blinked water from his eyes as they panickily fell onto his captor. Lambert. He was scowling and Jaskier immediately knew he was going to regret every footfall that had taken him away from the camp.

Lambert dragged him out of the pond onto the muddy forest floor.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” He snapped shaking him by the collar roughly, as he coughed up more water and shivered from cold. “GOT HIM!” Lambert yelled at the top of his voice, signalling to the others. The others weren’t here yet he realised… they must have split up to find him… in his panic he looked around and saw his escape, behind him about three hundred paces away the trees ended and the ground was split… there must have been an earthquake. If he could make it and throw himself down…

His eyes flicked back to Lambert and boiling determination filled his bones. He wasn’t going to sit back and let them torture him to death. His life hadn’t been on his own terms but his death would be. Fuck these witchers. Fuck the slave brand on his chest. Fuck sex. Fuck abuse. He was done. How many slaves got to choose how to die. How many slaves got to go out in a blaze of glory rather than have their flame snuffed out. He knew what he was going to do. 

He quickly and sharply brought his knee up to Lambert’s groin, his lack of armour making him vulnerable to that attack, making him yelp and let go of him. Jaskier, with as much strength as he could muster swung his fist into Lambert’s cheek bone, sending him to the ground, grasping at his crotch.

He rounded on his foot and started sprinting, the gorge becoming ever closer. Even if he didn’t die on impact surely the fall would be enough to rupture his organs and break bones… he would die within a few hours. He let out a free and happy shriek as his feet carried him to the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, this was so much fun to write! I'm sitting up at 3am procrastinating on my essay and it was probably way too much of a rush to write. Hopefully it was a rush for you guys to read. (And I know this is a little bit of a cliff hanger but it wouldn't be fun without them!)  
> Please let me know your thoughts! love all of you guys so much! xx


	7. The Fire

The pain hit him a lot quicker than he thought it was going to, and he didn’t expect his back to hurt like this. Then he registered the pressure on his back. And he realised that he hadn’t feel over the cliff’s edge but rather he had been tackled to the ground, less than twenty paces away. 

“NO!” An agonised shriek ripped it’s way from his body, “NO!” He screamed again before breaking into a sob, “No…” He looked to the death that was stolen from him, before he was rolled onto his back and instead was forced to look into angry yellow eyes, with a scar over one of them, and white hair framing pure rage.

“Are you trying to fucking kill yourself!” Geralt shouted, spit raining down onto his face. 

“YES!” He screamed back, filled with an equal amount of fury, before his reality dawned on him, and a sob wracked his body, and tears flowed down his no doubt grimy face. He closed his eyes and waiting to be punched or kicked but nothing of the sort happened. After a moment Geralt moved off of him before bending down and slinging him unceremoniously over his shoulder. Jaskier knew the movement would have jarred his shoulder but adrenaline really is a miracle drug. All he could do was stare at the passing twigs, leaves and dirt as he was carried back to camp.

The journey back to camp, he realised, was embarrassingly short and after all of that he realised that he hadn’t even gotten that far. As Geralt carried him the adrenaline started to wear off and he suddenly realised how much he was shivering. He knew it was from cold but he also knew that it was also an element of fear. His shoulder was starting to throb as well, but he knew that would be the least of his worries soon.

The light of the camp found them and he heard Eskel’s brisk voice.  
“Lambert boil some water, Geralt get his clothes off.” He was placed back on the log as Eskel ordered the others and he sobbed as Geralt started following his instruction. Geralt’s nibble hands pulled at the fastenings of his coat as he wept before ripping the soaking garment from his body and flinging it across the camp. Next came the shirt, and he was left covered in gooseflesh, shirtless in the fire lit campsight. Next his boots were ripped off and thrown aside… probably a privilege he wouldn’t earn back for a while… his feet would be bloody following these witchers. 

Throughout his stripping so far he had tried to stay as still as possible, sitting on his hands and trying his best not to flinch or cringe away from Geralt’s calculating touch. But when Geralt’s hands landed on his breeches fastenings he couldn’t help the yelp that escaped him, before he clutched desperately at Geralt’s big hands trying to pull him away.

“P-Please n-no… please...” He begged through his chattering and stuttered sobs, but his pleadings and attempts to removed Geralt’s grip did nothing. He unfastened the breeches as easily as he would have without Jaskier trying to stop him, before he stood, pulling Jaskier up with him and stripping him out of his trousers, baring him to the night sky, as Jaskier let out a resigned scream. He was shivering so badly, his teeth were clacking loudly, occasionally catching his cheek and filling his mouth with blood. He could barely cover himself with his shaking hands, and he knew he shouldn’t cover himself, knowing everything he was doing now was just making everything worse for him… but he was working on instinct.

“Geralt bring him by the fire.” Eskel stood near the flames that were licking higher and hotter than they were before Jaskier ran from the camp. He felt his blood go cold as he realised that at least part of his punishment was going to be a burn… he always hated burn scars they were so shiny and ugly and the pain was unimaginable.

“NO!” He screamed again, thrashing in Geralt’s grip as he dragged him over to the fire by his arm, “PLEASE NO!” He wept loudly as Geralt passed him over to Eskel, who wrapped a blanket tightly around his shoulders and forced him close to the fire. He couldn’t breath. Panic had taken hold of every fibre of his being. “I w-won’t again, please!” trying to pull out of Eskel’s grip but he held him like a vice, before kicking the back of his knees and helping Jaskier into a kneeling position by the fire where he sat on the ground next to him.

“The water, Lambert.” Lambert appeared on the other side of Jaskier’s kneeling and trembling form, he couldn’t help but cringe away from him and lean into Eskel, frightened of the personal vengeance that Lambert was surely going to have. Lambert leant over him and handed Eskel a cup of water, that had steam swirling out of the top of it.

“Please, master!” Jaskier begged Eskel, now not shouting but definitely still talking with a voice raised by panic, “please I’ll be good, I’ll be good!” He was shaking so much but he couldn’t stop, his cold hair plastered to his forehead, dripping with the murky water. 

“Alright, Jaskier.” Eskel’s voice was calm and devoid of anger, but Jaskier didn’t register and continued bargaining.

“Don’t b-burn me… please master… I’ll be good! I’ll b-beg for it! I won’t f-fight! I can make it good! I’ll be good!” He pleaded, reaching towards Eskel’s trouser covered cock. Eskel placed the water on the ground, before reaching and taking Jaskier’s skinny wrist into his much larger hand and moving it away gently. 

“None of that.” His voice even. Jaskier’s eyes flitted over his face, confused as he continued speaking his tone soft, “you’re going to freeze if you don’t warm up Jaskier.” Jaskier nodded tremulously, 

“C-cold.” His voice pathetic, barely following what was going on around him. 

“Yes. We need to warm you up.” Eskel said simply, bringing the cup to Jaskier’s lips, “sip and swallow.” He ordered clearly, and Jaskier couldn’t help but obey, warmth trickled down his throat and into his belly. He sipped the water when the cup was brought to his lips, and when Eskel put the empty mug on the floor, Jaskier looked at him with glassy eyes before he conjured up the last of his strength and whispered.

“Tired.” Before the light of the fire faded away and everything fell into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit! You guys are amazing! I never expected to get such a massive response. First chapter of the new year and I hope that you're enjoying all the angst... hopefully some comfort will be coming after all of the misunderstandings. But... their relationship is getting much more complicated!  
> Your comments honestly make me so happy so please keep telling me your thoughts, I always grin when I get a little email notification through with a comment! (The next chapter may be a little longer because I have essays due :( but I promise this fic isn't being abandoned!) xx


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